turns your ghosts to gold
by satheri
Summary: Six-year-old refugee Uzumaki Karin only wants to keep her mother safe and wash out of Konoha's academy while maintaining a low profile. Of course, the moment her full name gets called right before Naruto's on the class attendance list, that plan dies a sudden orange death. SI/OC, Karin, AU.
1. i

crossroads

* * *

I am called Karin. I am not called Karin, but she has lost her home and her husband and every safety and comfort, and she holds me as if I am all she has left to cling to in the world, so I let her call me Karin.

It takes me a while to realize that, after I lost my world, she is all I have left to call mine. Maybe it is very little, a malnourished woman with bird bones and weathered hands, but she looks at me like she is very sorry for not being enough, even as she gives everything she possibly can, so I determine she will be all I need.

It is a quaint, self-sacrificing thought, but the truth is we are dying slowly from starvation, and the country is burning down with civil unrest around us, from what little I can glean from her hushed, child-safe versions of events.

Therefore, I push my onigiri on her plate. She pushes it back on mine. I turn my sad red eyes on her. She attempts a smile.

"Mommy's tired," I mutter.

"Just a little."

"And hungry," I add, frowning sternly. "Mommy is going to get sick."

"Oh no, don't worry, Karin-chan. Uzumaki don't go down that easily! We're very sturdy people, you know." She waves her hands energetically.

"Okay," I say, pushing it back on her plate. "I'm an Uzumaki too."

That draws out a small, genuine, sad, sad smile. A smile like she's being cut up on the inside with shards of a broken heart. "That used to mean something, you know," she babbles, "We had a village, a great village. In the whirlpool island, by the river side. You could row by boat from one side to another. It was so pretty in the rain. Have I told you how we used to dance under the rain when it poured?"

"Tell me again," I ask, because it makes her happy. I hold out the onigiri to her.

And we share it, bite by bite. She weaves fairytales about how they used to dance on top of the ocean, in whirlpool, about how they used to catch the wind in their hands, in whirlpool, about how they used to send dragons of water swimming through the river, in whirlpool. I am intensely skeptic, but grateful for what I believe is her attempt to enthrall my childish imagination, with tall tales about a home I'll never know.

I dream of ghosts drifting through the ruins, in whirlpool.

* * *

When we have not eaten all day, she presses her chapped lips against my forehead and murmurs an apology that sounds half like a prayer. When we have not eaten in two days, she catches my hands in hers, squeezing them as if to draw strength from my touch, and whispers urgently, "Karin, we need to leave."

She does not say to where. There is raw desperation in her tone, an aching hunger that clawed its way up from her stomach to her throat to her lips.

Quietly, I nod.

We pack our belongings in a knapsack and we still don't have a destination. It is winter. The wind is bitingly cold outside, and there is not much food we can gather from the forest.

"We can go to Kusa, that's nearest," she says, "or we can go to Konoha. They used to be Uzu's closest allies, before. They are liable to treat us kindly. But it's too far. We would have to wait until spring."

She bites her lip and pauses, looking to me very solemnly, as if she is trusting me with something heavy. I am not sure what to say, then, because she sometimes looks to me as if I am a creature so incomprehensibly otherwordly and full of timeless wisdom, when really all I can do is help her budget and cook and share her sewing work. She thinks I do too much, given I am four, but I cannot afford a childhood when we are so very poor. I was born already knowing what the world can be like.

"What is the difference between the two, Mommy?"

"Well, Kusa is just two days away. We should go there. The village has been going through war, but it's about the safest place one can be in Grass Country." She pauses, tucks her chin with a sigh. "Konohagakure is the largest ninja village in the world-"

I flinch back, startled.

Konohagakure. Ninja village. My world tilts on its axis. I feel as though I just fell through the pages of a storybook. I pinch myself covertly in my bewilderment.

I know I have lost my world. I have spent my last four years living in a small village without electricity or internet, in a country called Grass, and my mother has never heard of France or America. She thinks they are fairytale places I've made up, from my description of them. She always compliments me on my imagination.

I know well enough I have been born in a parallel universe, where nothing is the same. I did not associate that with a television show I watched when I was eleven and can barely recall. My mother calls me Karin. That is a common enough name. We live in a small village in Grass Country, which I supposed was as uninspired a name as any for a country full of grassland. My family name is Uzumaki, which I did associate with Uzumaki Naruto, but only to laugh at the coincidence, because that was far more reasonable than to suddenly start believing I was _in_ Naruto.

Now my mother wants to maybe move to Konohagakure, the ninja village, and the synapses go off in my brain so suddenly it makes me lightheaded.

"Mother," I say, very seriously, and her gaze sharpens because I only ever call her mother, I only ever forsake the pretense of being a little girl who calls her mommy, when I am truly in a crisis. "Can we take some time to think about this?"

"Of course," she breathes, hugging me tightly, "I'm sorry to put all this on you, Karin-chan."

I relax into the hug, patting her softly on the back. Somehow, it makes me feel better. We'll get through this. Damage control, I think, breathing in my mother's warm lavender smell. There is a soft sound in her chest whenever I press my ear to it, like bells chiming. It is as much a part of her as the sound of her voice or the feel of her skin. I was never a believer in auras, but in this life I hear them sometimes, like songs ringing out in people's insides, loud bells or drums or violins.

That, I realize now, must be chakra.

The revelation makes me consider the odds of moving to Konoha. I would get the chance to learn the ninja arts, which are full of mystery and superhuman feats, but it's too dangerous an occupation. I am my mother's only child. I have no wish to leave her. Besides, Konoha is hardly the safest city to live in, considering Pein's invasion and Orochimaru's invasion -

Orochimaru. The recollection turns my insides to ice.

* * *

I lay quietly in my futon, tracing my shadow on the wall with a hand. Dimly, I struggle to piece together all the things I shouldn't recall.

Red hair. Glasses. The ability to feel chakra.

A scared little girl whose entire village was slaughtered.

Orochimaru.

Sasuke.

Bite marks.

Stabbed through the chest.

The future stretches before me, a grim collage of violence and being used. I bury my head in my mattress, muffling a scream that tears out of me like a cornered animal, furious and petrified.

My mother hears my quiet sobs in the stillness of our dark bedroom. She rises slowly, bridging the gap with a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"What is it, Karin-chan?" She asks me, alarmed, smoothing my hair. "What is the matter, my angel?"

"I don't want to go to Kusa," I sob, clenching my hands into her shirt. "Please. I don't want to. Please. Konoha, please."

"Oh, Karin," she whispers, like my name is glass in her mouth. "Did you have a nightmare?"

I fold myself into her arms and don't say a word.

"Darling, we can't," she tells me, though her face is streaked with tears, as pained as my own, "It's too far. We're never going to make it in this winter."

"Let's wait for spring."

She shakes her head, squeezing me as if I am going to waste away.

"Karin, dear." Her voice is very small. "We might not have enough food left to wait for spring. We might..." She trails off, the edge of fear hanging over our heads like a sword.

I take a deep breath. I wipe my tears on the back of my hands.

I wear my brightest grin as I say, "Uzumaki don't go down that easily! We're very sturdy people, you know."

There is a long silence in the darkness of our rundown shack. Then she laughs, soft and sure as a promise. "Of course, Karin-chan. Spring will be here soon."

We hold onto each other until we fall asleep.

* * *

Author's Note: So this popped out I don't know where from? It's in first person, which I don't normally write, but this is going to be more drabble-ish than my other story, so it suits, I think.


	2. ii

leaf

* * *

We leave home by the third week of spring, when the rains have turned the roads wet and slippery with mud and the world blooms green as we pass by, endless fields of grassland swaying in the breeze. We take only our tattered knapsacks with us.

Mother chatters as we walk along, pointing out the plants and their various uses to me. She wants me to know what I can eat. She always wants me to know where the nearest water source is. She always tells me what villages we passed, in what direction, and how far away they are.

She wants me to know, if anything should happen to her...

(I understand now that the reason she agreed to this journey is because she knows I am not a child. Oh, she loves me like her child, but she knows I understand the risks).

She hates to be travelling alone, the two of us. She tried, unsuccessfully, to barter a ride for us with a caravan of merchants headed for Fire Country, but they'd looked at us like we were filthy rats, and sneaking along would have been met with great prejudice, so we thought better of it.

"We're stealthier this way," I say, optimistically, as we skirt along the edges of the main road. Mother sends me a smile for my effort.

The caravan at least had guards. Alone, a woman and a child, trekking across a war-torn country, we are easy prey. Our survival hinges entirely on stealth. I feel a sinking sense of guilt, as I know she would be faster and significantly safer without me. My small body tires too easily, and though she carries me without complaint, I feel increasingly sorry for the burden.

* * *

Our second day on the road, there is a faint whistling in my ears. I tell her so. Her face darkens as she pulls me to the ground.

"Are you dizzy?"

I shake my head. The whistling rings louder, sibilant. It rises to a fever pitch, and I press my hands to my ears. It does nothing to muffle it. It's ringing inside out. "I... I think something is coming."

It approaches fast. I can make out three notes, in a sharp crescendo, so loud they drown out the howl of the wind over the grass plains. His footfalls are completely silent as he soars through the air in leaps and bounds.

Mother presses a finger to my lips. We huddle together under the tall grass with bated breath. I close my eyes, my head pounding in a haze, and her thumb draws soothing circles into my palm. When his screeching echoes fade in my ears, I open my mouth, and click it shut.

She tilts her head at me like a curious bird.

I raise my shoulders in a shrug. "I heard something."

She sighs, but pats my head warmly all the same. Her face is bloodless pale under her smile. "Good of you to keep an ear out, Karin-chan."

I pause. That man - he was so much louder than anyone else. Anyone else I've ever met. His song consumed the world. "Mommy, what... what was he?"

"Shinobi," she says, like it's a whole other species. Something different from us, humans. Maybe it is.

* * *

Our third day on the road, we come across a dying man. I have fallen asleep, curled up in my mother's arms. I wake to her setting me on the ground, hovering over me in a crouch, her eyes lost in the distance.

"Momma...?" I stare up at her questioningly. She breathes out slowly, bitterness and pity warring across her weary face.

Then I hear it. A ragged staccato beat at the edges of my consciousness, bleeding out into empty pauses between each mournful note. I turn my head to look. The stranger is propped up against a tree, staring. His body shudders with every breath, pitiful gurgles ripped out of his lungs.

She collects her knife quietly. "Poison," she says quickly, though I did not ask, and slashes his throat twice to put him out of his misery. The first time, shakily. The second time, she's sure.

She killed him just so he wouldn't haunt us. We never stopped to ask if he could be saved. We never let ourselves wonder if we could get him to help if we hurried, if we turned back to the village we just passed, if maybe there was a healer and we begged and we tried.

But we did not try. We thought: we must go on our way. We are too vulnerable already. We cannot shoulder the additional weight of him.

"The weak can't often afford to be merciful," she mutters, mouth twisted sourly.

Her words crawl down my spine, sinking like a rock in the pit of my stomach. I retch slightly, staring at the corpse, wide-eyed and silent. I struggle to reconcile the blood on her hands with the woman who sings me to sleep, who carries me so gently when I am tired.

My mother is not a proper kunoichi, she says, her voice wistful. She never had training beyond the very basics of how to throw a weapon. She can't mold chakra in any useful way at all. All she retained: the willingness to kill and the resilience to survive.

(I realize now, when she was telling me about the plants, she didn't point out all the poisonous ones just so I wouldn't eat them).

I sigh. She shakes her head at me, eyes dark through half-lidded lashes, and rests her hands on my shoulders, squeezing. "Better him than us."

The thought cuts across my nausea with a bonechilling clarity. Better him than us, I think, swallowing. I look up to the mottled grey sky, rainclouds drifting by. Slowly, I nod.

"War makes ghosts of us all," she whispers into my hair. "When we cross the border to Fire tomorrow, things will be better. They're at peace."

Something about the way she says peace sounds like a promise.

But... something about the way she says it rings hollow. Like a promise you can't keep.

* * *

When the grassland gives way to forests of ancient trees, our path comes to an uncertain halt. Mother, for all her hopeful courage, has never been to Konoha and only knows its general location. She had hoped to ask for more precise directions along the way. I have only ever seen the village in memories from another life. I can only remember the mountain and -

"I hear it," I say, blinking, with a sudden certainty.

She raises her eyebrows at me, looking around. "I don't hear a thing, Karin-chan."

Konoha is not to be found on any maps. They are not called Hidden Villages for nothing. Attempting to ask for directions only got us shunned or worse, outsiders as we visibly are. Routes to Konoha are the knowledge of plenty of merchants and clients of the village, but they are not given for free to destitute strangers who show up out of nowhere, with nothing to trade in turn.

We were met with suspicious eyes and closed mouths, everywhere we turned.

I shrug. I feel a confidence rising within me. "Every time we passed by a shinobi, I could hear them from a mile away. Their chakra is - it is - " Terrifying. Overwhelming. Alive. Absurd. Mesmerizing. "And Konoha has _thousands_ of them. All in one place. It is... very distant... and vague... like I'm listening through a wall and it's a thousand different broken notes at once all tumbling over each other and it's just one big ball of noise... but I can hear it."

Mother nods, a faint frown creasing her forehead. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She falters, eyes turned downwards, mouthing soundlessly as if she is arguing with herself. I can tell she thinks herself mad, turning east because a four-year-old thinks she heard something in the forest. I curl my hand around hers and shoot her a beaming smile. She squares her shoulders and I can see the leap of faith in her eyes, a sudden boundless glint.

We lean against each other, muttering about our plans and dreams. They consist mainly of all the food we wish we can eat, once we finally reach Konoha. It makes us hungrier than ever, but smiles crack across our faces, and we keep walking on tired feet.

This time, I am the one tugging her along, my hopes singing louder with every step.

* * *

My first impression of Konohagakure is that it gives me a headache.

The village is the most awful cacophony I've ever heard in my life, home to thousands of souls screaming over one another, a mismatched orchestra where each musician plays a different tune. Up here, within sight of its walls, the sheer racket is deafening and makes my head pound, but it does nothing to dim my enthusiasm.

Embarrassingly, we arrived from the wrong direction. Mother laughs and says she's glad we arrived at all. We are circling around in search of the main gate when the guards accost us.

A pair of them leap in front of us in a swirl of spiraling leaves, landing smoothly on their feet, forehead protectors glinting sharply. Their chakra crackles in the air like thunder, an electric rush tingling my ears. Young men, dressed in flak jackets, with dark eyes and hair, their faces studiously unreadable. One a short fellow with a strip of bandage running across the bridge of his nose and the other, slightly taller, with a mousy face and a single eye peeking warily through a curtain of hair.

The guard with the bandaged nose speaks up first. His chakra is like the beat of a drum, steady but quickening. It sounds agitated, surprised perhaps, with an off-beat of curiosity creeping through. There is a smile in his voice, but a cold, polite one. "Welcome to Konoha. How may we help you?"

Mother clears her throat. "Ah, yes, shinobi-san... we are... we come from Grass. We hope to find refuge in your village." She bows her head politely.

"From Grass, huh?" He casts us a long, considering glance. "Your documents?"

"W-we are refugees... we don't really..."

I squeeze my mother's hand, swallowing. Have we come this far to be turned away?

But the guard only nods, as if he were expecting that. His partner speaks up suddenly, sounding ticked off. His chakra is the suspicious hiss of a flute. "Why didn't you come up through the main road?"

"We didn't follow the main road."

A frown. "Then how did you find us?"

"My daughter, shinobi-san. She's able to sense chakra."

His eyebrows jump slightly at that. Good, I think, please let us in. He scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Names, ages and skills?"

"I am Uzumaki Mayumi, I am thirty. I have been a seamstress since my youth. This is -"

"Uzumaki Karin, shinobi-san. I am five. I can sew, read and sense chakra." I punctuate my introduction with a small neat bow, because I am trying my very best.

"Uzumaki...?" There is a faint glimmer of recognition in his eye.

"My family fled from the fall of Uzushio when I was very young," my mother explains, sounding pained. "Our branch has a small bloodline limit with - with healing properties."

The guard's eyebrows hitch up higher, skirting dangerously close to his hairline. His partner, the bandaged one, taps him on the shoulder. A look passes between them, carrying a whole conversation. In a second, their chakra fluctuates: I can hear the drum pick up.

"Come along," he gestures. "I am Hagane Kotetsu and this is my partner Kamizuki Izumo. Welcome to Konoha, Uzumaki-san, and you too," he grins down at me, "Uzumaki-chan. I'll escort you both to the immigration sector shortly."

Dazed, we can only nod as we are led through colorful streets lined with vendors and stores of all kinds. The village is bustling and full of life, the sun shining brightly over the mountaintop. Mother and I exchange hopeful smiles. I can feel my eyes getting dangerously misty.

Ten minutes later, we are seated stiffly in cold metal chairs in a sterile white room. A bored desk chunin scrawls away busily as we are interrogated, quite extensively, on every single possible detail of our backgrounds. There are no threats, and everything is done quite civilly, but no precautions are spared. I am asked everything from the name of the village where I came from, what is the climate like in Grass country, what do I like best about Konoha, what is my favorite game to play, what do I want to be when I grow up, to several questions about my ability to read, add and subtract, and my mother is asked ten times more questions than I am, chiefly about what we plan to do once we settle here.

At some point, a different interviewer comes in, a sharply dressed woman with glasses, and she has us demonstrate our bloodline limit - which is done, thankfully, with very small, humane bites - before drilling me extensively on my sensing abilities. She has me count off the number of people in the building, and whether they're shinobi or civilian, then the number of people in the street - which I fail miserably at, because everything outside is a horrible jumbled mess of noise to me.

My heart hammers in my chest as she corrects all my loose estimations, but then she just smiles.

We are given a year's worth of probation and temporarily assigned to government housing in a public shelter, but we are allowed to stay, on the condition that my mother finds gainful employment and that I be required to enroll into the ninja academy once I turn six, the mandatory age.

I am not quite sure how to feel about that. Life as a ninja seems stressful and harzardous. I would be content to settle into a quiet existence with my mother, after our long tiring journey. But having been tested on my sensory skills, there is little choice. The village requires that I reward it with my service.

Part of me wonders if perhaps I should have withheld the existence of my skill, but I couldn't afford to, as we had to explain how we found the village. Besides, it was in our best interest to impress them in any way possible, lest we get turned away. I doubt that Konoha, despite their reputation as the most humane ninja village, takes refugees from all corners merely out of the kindness of their good hearts. Those who are granted asylum are those who prove their usefulness to the village.

"So Karin-chan," my mother leans down, with a cheerful grin, "You are going to be my little kunoichi, huh?"

"Well," I say uncertainly, and promptly fall over as she tickles my ribs mercilessly. She picks me up, kissing me on the forehead, humming a cheerful tune against my skin. Overhead, the Hokage mountain looms fierce and imposing, faces carved starkly into the stone and... is that a smudge of orange paint on the Fourth's nose?

I stare at it, thinking of the story I watched unfold, so long ago. I, too, might become a ninja.

* * *

For a while, we are blissfully, peacefully happy.

My mother finds work as a seamstress. I spend my days at her side, sewing or reading quietly. After three months, we start to rent a small apartment in a humble neighborhood. There is warm food on our table every day. She buys me a brand new pair of glasses for my sixth birthday.

I face my impending academy enrollment with growing trepidation but a healthy dose of optimism. There is no specification made that I must fulfill a career as an active shinobi. I am required to attend the academy, but there is no demand that I succeed. I can easily fail my jounin teacher's test and settle into the Genin Corps for a life of menial D ranks with very little danger involved, or perhaps wash out with low grades and pursue civilian work.

All in all, I think to myself, attending some classes for a few years is a very small price to pay for the contented smile on my mother's face in the mornings. I'd pay it a thousand times.

* * *

My first day begins rather smoothly. The academy is packed full of starry-eyed students and proud parents as the Hokage delivers his solemn but sincerely heartwarming speech.

Afterwards, us children watch a brief opening lecture delivered by the head teacher about the greatness of shinobi life and the wonderful opportunity we are being afforded in attending the ninja academy. We are told to work hard, apply ourselves and keep the will of fire close to our hearts.

Then we are shuffled into our classrooms, quickly but very efficiently. To my dismay, as I beeline to the back of the room and help myself to a secluded seat, I recognize several faces around me.

I notice Kiba first, all teeth and noise, laughing uproariously, a tiny Akamaru curled up on his desk on the front row. Beside him, a very pretty blonde girl with sky blue eyes. Poised and attentive to the teacher's every movement, but looking rather nervously at her peers, a small girl with a mop of bright pink hair and green eyes full of wonder. By the wall, a boy in sharp glinting shades and a trenchcoat. Just behind him, a small girl with pearly white eyes glued to her desk. A pale dark haired boy staring out the window, a red and white fan proudly emblazoned on the back of his shirt. A boy munching noisily on a bag of chips and a prone figure taking a nap right beside him.

And, arriving late, breathlessly, slamming the door open for dramatic effect, Uzumaki Naruto, who greets the class with a smile like the sun and a very earnest declaration about how he will become Hokage one day, believe it.

Laughter breaks out.

I can barely hear it over the sound of his chakra, the sheer loudness of him. Naruto is a trumpet, blaring out at full volume, rising and rising with an intensity like he knows his will be a song for the ages. And somewhere underneath it, a bamboo flute whistling out a soft tune of hope.

* * *

Author's Note: Woo. So, Konoha is here. Or rather, Karin is there. Next chapter things will actually go down, I promise. Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed, you guys are the bestest!


	3. iii

hey, hey!

* * *

Iruka, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he's staving off a headache already, three minutes into the school year, shushes the rows of laughing children with a forbidding glare. "Silence, everyone, please. Naruto-kun, you're late _._ "

"Eh? I had to use the bathroom-"

"That's all right. Get to your seat. Punctuality is an essential virtue for a responsible ninja! I expect you all to keep that in mind," Iruka says, looking over our class sternly.

I smother a grin, thinking of orange books and flimsy excuses.

"Well, I think everyone is here now," he mutters, giving us a small, warm smile, "Let's take roll. Aburame Shino!"

I throw open my schoolbook and pretend to entertain myself in reading over all the things I've already read. It disturbs me to hear so many familiar names being called out. Thankfully, I've surrounded myself with lively civilian children who I can't recognize on all sides. I am determined to avoid contact with the members of the Rookie Nine as much as I can.

"Haruno Sakura."

I have no wish to interfere with happenings much larger than I. It's already enough that I've changed the course of history by coming here - ah, I console myself, Karin was hardly irreplaceable. It shouldn't change anything in the grand scheme of things. Itachi and Sasuke were fated to meet some time. Orochimaru can find some other poor orphan to run his laboratory.

The thought fills me with a pang of guilt.

"Uchiha Sasuke."

I don't dwell. I read the first few lines of our weapons throwing guide faintly to myself, forcing the thoughts away from my mind. Then, like stumbling off the edge of a cliff, my entire life is thrown off course in four words.

"Uzumaki Karin."

I raise my hand meekly, from my seat in the back of the class, tucked away in the left corner.

There's the sudden screech of a trumpet thrown off key, blowing out a long, drawn out note of shock. Naruto swivels his head around to stare at me with narrowed eyes, his whole face all scrunched up like he's thinking really hard. His chakra picks up a beat, a snare drum struck sharply.

I open up my notebook and pretend to be engrossed, fiddling with my pen.

"Uzumaki Naruto."

I hear an enthusiastic yell somewhere in front of me, followed by a small hand smacking noisily down on a desk. I resist the urge to look up to see if he has turned back to look at me again. I don't want him to, I tell myself sternly.

I sink lower into my chair, resolutely staring at my blank notebook. I scrawl out a half-hearted sketch of a bird. A few minutes pass, and I let out a shaky breath.

Our first lesson is, frankly, slow going. We are a class of six-year-olds, and our teachers will begin our curriculum primarily by gauging our reading levels and building up our stamina, along with basic indocrination towards the ninja tenets of village loyalty, mission importance and teamwork whenever appropriate.

Which means: we start off reading the ninja code, taking turns, as every student reads a rule out loud when called up, and then Iruka-sensei explains what was read, in a simple way meant for young children. It is horribly, mind-numblingly boring, and half the class is dozing off or chattering quietly by the time we hit the tenth rule.

By the thirtieth rule, a handful of the more daring ones, Naruto among them, start aiming paper balls at Iruka and Mizuki-sensei whenever their backs are turned.

The two chunin dodge smoothly every time, with the practiced ease of those who avoid getting skewered by kunai for a living, but I can see a vein threatening to pop on Iruka-sensei's forehead, and Mizuki-sensei's cheerful smile grows increasingly strained.

Then Inuzuka Kiba sends Akamaru on a revenge mission to pee under the desk of a girl he claims hit him with a paper ball, and the whole class erupts into chaos.

"Ewwww," Ami bawls, jerking her feet away in disgust, "It _peed_ on me! Sensei!"

"Hah! Serves you right," yells Kiba, a finger thrust out accusingly at her. Akamaru yips in agreement.

Half our class bursts out laughing and the other half whispers loudly.

"Quiet," hisses Iruka-sensei, leveling us all with a deadly glare. I muffle my laughter in my hands. "Kiba-kun, that was beyond inappropriate."

"She hit me first!"

"It was an accident! I meant to hit Mizuki-sensei!" Ami claps a hand over her mouth, eyes widening. "N-no, wait, I mean, sensei..."

"It doesn't matter who started it," Mizuki-sensei snaps, through gritted teeth. "Ami-kun, you are insubordinate and childish. Kiba-kun, your ninken is meant to be your shinobi partner, not a toy for immature pranks. You will _both_ be staying back during recess to work on your behavior. Yes, you too, Ami-kun, and-"

Taking advantage of the distraction, Naruto lobs a paper ball straight at the back of Mizuki's head. It's the first one that actually connects.

The chunin turns around very, very slowly, a muscle twitching faintly in his jaw. "And looks like Uzumaki will be joining you for detention too," he grinds out. "For the rest of the _week._ "

Naruto, who had been preening under all the attention, blanches visibly. My smile crumbles into a frown. A week? Ami and Kiba got a day each, but Naruto... maybe it was just Mizuki hitting his breaking point. I look away uneasily.

"All right," Iruka-sensei clears his throat, clapping his hands together. "That's enough reading for today. We'll take a short break, and afterwards we'll work on laps and get started on throwing weapons."

The class visibly perks up at the mention of a break, and all but bursts into a cloud of excited chatter when there's talk of _weapons._ Over the lively hum of their chakra, cheerful notes blending together in a crackle of eagerness, I hear them prattle about how they will get to throw shuriken like real ninja and how cool is that.

Shutting my book, I lean back quietly in my seat, watching groups of children bustle out of the classroom. Most of them are too caught up in the excitement to remember we won't even be allowed to touch live steel at all for our first year. We'll just be tossing around wooden toys at dummies, which is hardly flashy, but it is more than I've managed. I only own one set of practice kunai, a gift from my mother, and my targets are always improvised and rather sloppy.

As the classroom empties, I figure I'll amuse myself by absently reading over a chapter on the Third Shinobi World War for the upteenth time, as my hands work through handseals as fast as I can. Handseals are something I've taken to practicing often, because there's no equipment needed, it's risk free, and it's essential to jutsu. And they're deceptively difficult.

I can do the easy ones - dog, boar, snake - very fast, but some of them - like bird or dragon or ox - are a matter of complicated finger dexterity. Going from ox to dragon in half a second is a skill required of any shinobi worth their salt, and it takes me about three, which is beyond abysmal.

"Hey, hey!" A voice cuts into my thoughts, and I botch my seals horribly, fingers flailing at all the wrong angles. I know who it is without looking up. His chakra is very loud. "Whatcha doing?"

I blink, and Uzumaki Naruto is leaning over my desk, in all his orange glory. "Handseals," I say dryly.

His face is curiously blank.

"You need them for jutsu...?" I try.

He lights up like the sun. "Jutsu? Whoa. Hey, hey, do you know any cool jutsu? Can you teach me? What is it? Is it a fireball? Or a cool clone? Or a giant wave like whoosh?" He waves his hands around wildly, miming his guesses.

"No jutsu," I say meekly. "I'm just practicing handseals."

His face falls. "That's boring," he whines.

I shrug. He's still looking at me. My concentration is shot, hands fumbling. What am I doing, talking to him? Wasn't I supposed to avoid the Rookie Nine?

"Is there anything you need, Uzumaki-san?" I ask, with exaggerated politeness, trying to put some distance between us.

"Eh? Uzumaki... hey," he pauses briefly, shooting me a nervous sideways glance, "Your last name is Uzumaki too, right?"

I shrug, burying my nose in my book. I am anxious to avoid that line of questioning. He's probably nursing some vague hopes I'd know who his parents were, the poor boy. And I'm not supposed to know any of that.

"Hey, hey," he tries again, fidgeting, "do you think-"

"Aren't you supposed to be writing lines, Uzumaki-san?" I interrupt calmly, without looking up at him. "Since you're in detention... if Mizuki-sensei comes back and sees you haven't written any, you'll be in trouble."

"Tch. I don't care about that." He scowls fiercely. "Aren't you in detention too? You're not writing either."

I blink. "I'm not in detention."

He narrows his eyes suspiciously at me, unconvinced. "Then why aren't you outside?"

"Because I want to be alone," I say bluntly, flipping a page in my book. "You should work on those lines."

I glimpse a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it's quickly covered up with anger. He turns away in a huff, stomping his feet. "Fine, be that way. Weirdo," he mumbles to himself, voice dipping slowly from irritation to melancholy.

He's the kind of person, I realize, who's used to being rejected when he tries to make friends. Even though I've achieved my goal of shooing him away, there is a heavy coil of guilt in my stomach. Ah, I think, swallowing, it will all work out in the end. That's how the story goes, I tell myself.

* * *

After recess, our teachers bring the class to the training grounds outside, and set up a timer. For our first day, we are instructed to run as many laps as we can in the alotted time, to gauge our fitness levels, and the amount will increase slowly over time. I frown to myself, stretching slowly. My endurance isn't the best.

We run laps for about twenty minutes, and though I am sweating bullets halfway through the second one, I manage to keep myself in the middle of the pack by the skin of my teeth. Here, the divide between the clan children and the civilian born students is as pronounced as it is disheartening.

The civilians, like me, look truly and well challenged by the effort. We are panting along, visibly flagging with each additional lap as we struggle to keep up the pace. I watch in dismay as the clan children (except Shikamaru, who can't be bothered) shoot ahead of us by the end of the first lap, and by the end of our third, they have passed us already and are a full lap ahead... well, them and Naruto.

The boy has stamina in spades, and five laps in, he barely looks winded, cheerfully jogging like he's having the time of his life, as he falls just behind Uchiha Sasuke and Inuzuka Kiba. Him and Kiba taunt each other and every now and then Naruto charges ahead, shouting something about how he will not lose.

He sticks his tongue out smugly as he passes me again, clearly not having forgotten my rudeness. A grin breaks across my face. He's just so... six years old.

Naruto blinks, confused at my sudden friendly reaction for a moment, then pinches his face into a scowl with an exaggerated hmph, as he takes off racing ahead. I smother my smile, looking down at my feet.

Trudging heavily along as I wipe the sweat off my forehead, I finally give shape to the thoughts which have been bothering me. His childish reactions, his friendliness... he's just so painfully, obviously six.

He's a six year old boy with no clue why everyone always rejects him.

And I, in all my mindless paranoia, was rude to him, too worried that a few minutes of polite conversation might somehow knock the whole future of the world off course. As if I was that important. I was rude to a friendless, bullied _six-year-old_ for no reason. My throat constricts in shame. That's not who I am. Is it? I stare at my warped reflection in a puddle as I walk past. I don't like that girl.

* * *

Firmly ensconced in my resolution to be at least decent, if not good, I attempt to do better by Naruto. We avoid each other for a while, but I give him polite greetings which he returns with suspicious stares. By the end of our first week in school, the whispers start.

One day, I am startled from my reading as Ami claps a hand on my desk, looking down at me. Her friends hang by her sides like vultures. She wounds the victim, and then they swoop in, it seems. "So, are you and that Naruto boy related?"

Her face twists into a sneer, as if daring me to deny it. She wants me nervous and embarrassed, wants to see me sputter, because no one can possibly want to be related to Naruto.

"Yeah, we are," I say flatly, very calm.

I could have played it off as coincidence in our surnames, no relation whatsover. But that isn't the truth. His mother was an Uzumaki. However distant our branches, we are both heirs of Uzushio. All that's left of it.

Ami's face scrunches up in delighted horror. "My father says he's a monster."

"I don't believe that," I return.

"Everyone says that."

"My mother doesn't say that," I counter, in my finest display of six-year-old logic.

"That's because she's related," Ami cries, "She's probably a monster too."

My eyes narrow. "I'd rather be related to her than you," I say, "I'd rather be related to Naruto than you. So leave us alone." Glaring, I flip my book shut over her hand with a slam.

She pulls her hand back and clenches it into a fist, face contorting in rage. "Why, you -"

"I don't care what you call me," I tell her darkly, "But if you beat me up, I'm telling Iruka-sensei." I give her a mean little smile. "You're already in trouble for the paper balls, so I'd be careful if I were you."

Ami hisses at me, hackles raised, like an angry cat. She walks away, muttering angrily to her friends. She'll tell everyone who'll listen about what a freak I am after that, further cementing my status as a friendless pariah.

I don't really mind. I've always been the sort of girl who lives inside her own head, and gets all her social interaction from one or two people she really cares about - that person is my mother, now. I won't miss my classmates at all, I think, shrugging.

Suddenly, all the chatter near me is drowned out by a bamboo flute whistling out a soaringly high crescendo. I blink. Naruto's chakra is loud, the loudest in our class by far, but not so loud. In his chakra, the trumpet, the bravado that yells out at you, is always louder than the thin sound of the flute. This is the first time I've heard it take the lead.

I turn around, and he's staring at me with wide blue eyes, as if I've defied the laws of gravity, or suddenly I've grown another head.

Driven by a childish impulse, I stick my tongue out at him, then I smile.

He breaks out into a surprised grin.

* * *

That day, when Iruka-sensei lets us out for recess, Naruto saunters over to my desk, his fists clenched at his sides in determination.

"Hey, hey, Karin, right?" I nod. "I know you never go out for recess... but I think you should! Today? Right? It's really nice outside and you can run around and play and - and I'll show you to my favorite spot. By the old swing. No one ever goes there... but we can go. So, whatcha think?" He finishes all in one breath, brightening.

This is more than I've bargained for, I realize. I vowed I'd be decent to him, but I never thought I'd go outside and... actually interact with a classmate. But he looks so hopeful, so oddly vulnerable, as if it's taking everything he has to ask, as if a no wouldn't even make him angry, just defeated.

"Okay," I say, closing my book.

"Hey, hey, so," he throws me a long, sideways glance, swallowing, "What you said earlier... we're really related?"

"Cousins, maybe," I shrug, as nonchalantly as I can. "Distant cousins, I guess. The Uzumaki clan used to be huge."

A wide-eyed look comes over his face. "Cousins?" There is a pause. "...what is the Uzumaki clan?"

"It used to be a large ninja clan. Like the Hyuuga or the Uchiha or the Yamanaka. You know all those clans in our class? Like that. Only the Uzumaki got attacked a while back... very few people survived."

"Oh," he says, voice small, staring at his feet. A sudden stillness comes over his face. "My parents...?"

"They probably came to Konoha after the fall of Uzushio," I say vaguely, as though I'm guessing. "Uzushio was our clan's village - we used to have a village, but it's gone."

He looks gobsmacked, as if he can't process all this information. "I - what was it like - "

I think to myself whether I should. He looks so curious, hanging on my every word. And a few vague tales about an old village shouldn't change too much, in the grand scheme of things. "Where is that spot you talked about?" I say, finally.

He leads me to a tree with a lonely swing, then lets me sit down on it. "I'll push you," he offers brightly, as if to keep me talking.

Smiling just slightly, I tell him the stories my mother used to tell me.

"Uzushiogakure was famous for its fuinjutsu and the longevity of its shinobi," I begin.

He gives me a weak little push, the pitch of his chakra wavering in confusion.

"Fuinjutsu is a ninja art. And longevity means long lived. Because it was so peaceful, and the shinobi were so strong, they lived long, happy lives."

Naruto nods enthusiastically, brightening.

Encouraged, I continue. "Uzushio was in an island, off the coast of Fire Country. Its main street was a river, and the shinobi there were very good with water jutsu..."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. They would use water jutsu to sail their boats all over town. When it rained, everyone would gather around and dance on top of the river, and the children would catch fish with their hands."

When I've ran down half the stories I remember, I turn back to look at him, nearly losing my balance and stumbling off the swing in the process. "My mother knows a lot more than I do," I say, "You should meet her sometime."

A shadow of doubt crosses his face, suddenly. He stops pushing.

"It's just an offer," I say quietly. "Let's trade. You sit, and I'll push you." His eyes go wide, like no one has ever pushed him on a swing before.

Oh, I realize with a sudden pang, there probably hasn't been anyone.

"It's fun. You should try it."

Naruto grins. "Sure!"

I push him higher and higher.

"Hey, hey, Karin, did Uzushio shinobi really make clones out of water?"

"Yes."

"So cool! Did they really turn into puddles?"

"That was a genjutsu..."

* * *

Author's Note: So here's our introduction between the two... Karin really has no clue what she just signed up for.

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, favorited or followed. It really means so much to me! To reviewers, let me answer a few things~

sucuri: Hi, thank you! I wrote her as being four because I wanted to give her a brief adjustment period between arriving on Konoha and the plot picking up. Since, you know, as a refugee, she had to undergo probation and such. But fear not, her mother is safe :)

rickrossed: yesss, I'm so glad you caught on to that little scene with the line about mercy, that will be a recurring source of motivation for her in the future. As to her specialization, I see Karin as a bit of a ninjutsu or fuinjutsu dork, but that might change? I don't have anything set in stone yet.

arcane charmcaster: she'll definitely attempt fuinjutsu at some point, but no spoilers ;)

akasuna123: aw, Hinata is too nice to be a bully, I think. She might be a bit miffed/envious, but hopefully she'd have the courage to befriend Naruto herself too... hmm, that might be a plot point?

Tonegawa Rie: He definitely can! I just have to have a good excuse - err, I mean a plot point suitable for him... but I love having cameos, so I think I can definitely make it happen once the Naruto/Sasuke rivalry kicks off, lol.

Allykat5, tiredcryptid, bicoljoy, Myrddin Emrys The Third, MaidenOfTheSky334, lala, and the various guests: thank you so much for your kind words! You guys are the best!


	4. iv

time

* * *

Uzumaki Naruto takes over my life with disarming alacrity. He is a gregarious person by nature, and aside from the Sandaime's sporadic visits, Iruka-sensei's gentle lectures and a daily chitchat with the Ichiraku owners, the boy doesn't have anyone.

I, an introverted bookworm who has never made friends easily, mix with him about as well as water and oil. Naruto doesn't seem to care though, as he sits beside me in class every day, and magnanimously proclaims that when he is Hokage, he will decree that we won't have to learn any lame stuff in the Academy like the locations of all major battles in the Third Shinobi Great War, and instead we'll be learning cool jutsu only.

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips. "History is interesting," I say.

He narrows his eyes at me like I have betrayed him deeply. "You're weird."

Luckily, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. "Naruto," I nudge him. "Let's draw a map after school. Bring your crayons."

"Eh? A map? What for? Are we going somewhere?" He is already bouncing on his seat in anticipation.

"I'm going to tell you a story."

"A story? Is it a cool one?" He grins, perking up. "Does it have ninja?"

"Lots and lots of ninja," I promise.

An hour later, our map is filled with vaguely country-shaped blobs, each painted a different color (Fire is bright orange because that's the coolest, he says), and Naruto doodles vaguely recognizable landmarks over them, decorating the locations with stick figures of shinobi engaged in dramatic looking battles.

When our work is finished, we show it off to Iruka-sensei, who praises us warmly and awards us an extra credit, then I take Naruto out to Ichiraku's to celebrate. I let him keep the map, and I help him hang it up in his apartment, near his potted plants. We ocasionally add to it, improving the doodles or coloring things in.

Naruto passes our history test.

* * *

Sometimes, it occurs to me I hardly have the energy to keep up with the average six-year-old, let alone mischievous, hyperactive, tireless Naruto.

It's only ever us two. None of the other children will play with us. Naruto says it's because we are way too cool for them. I always smile at that.

We are sitting around the playground, or well, I am sitting, leaning back on my arms, badly winded, after an alarmingly intense game of ninja. Naruto is standing over me with an unimpressed stare, looking about halfway ready to drag me to my feet.

So far I've valiantly held out against all his pulling by attempting to become one with the dirt.

"Let's trade," I offer, "I'll be the guard and you be the enemy ninja."

"No," he says immediately, puffing out his cheeks at me.

"Why not?"

"Because you never chase," he yells, pointing at my face accusingly, "You just stare after me looking stupid and then you go 'oh well, looks like he got away' and you sit."

"I can't abandon my post," I say, half-heartedly.

He gives a loud hmph, muttering something about how I won't get away with my laziness when he is Hokage. At least our friendship is doing wonders for my stamina, I think despairingly. I'm almost as fast as Chouji on laps now.

"Okay," I mutter, holding up a finger. "Give me a breather. One minute."

We make it to forty seconds before Naruto fidgets, cutting me a look. I push myself up with a sigh. His face splits into a wide, glowing grin, and he picks up a pebble, tossing it at me.

I blink owlishly, fumbling to catch it.

"All right, so the stone is a princess, and you're an evil bandit who kidnapped the princess," he beams, pointing a thumb grandly to his chest, "and I'm the hero who rescues the princess."

I am barely able to ponder the ridiculousness of the premise before Naruto shrieks, throwing himself at me.

"You'll never rescue pebble-hime!" I shout theatrically, running away.

"I'll kick your butt, evil bandit!" Naruto yells, but he's laughing.

Dimly, I realize I'm laughing breathlessly, too.

* * *

"Naruto, let's play a game."

He perks up instantly, grinning brighter than the sun. "Yeah! What is it? Cops and robbers? Ninja? Come into my castle?"

"It's a new game I learned," I say. "It's called the leaf game."

"Cool! Hey, hey, how's it work?"

"First, you have to sit very still and be very quiet. And you hold a leaf."

He makes a face, glaring barefully at me. "That's lame! What sort of game is that? Only you could make up a boring game like that, Karin!"

"Is it?" I say, smiling smugly. I press a leaf to my forehead, attaching it there as I channel my chakra. For all of ten seconds.

"Whoa!" Naruto leans over me, and my concentration snaps, the leaf fluttering to the ground. "How did you do that? Do it again!"

I demonstrate, struggling to keep focus as the leaf wobbles precariously on my forehead. "Now, we have to see who can hold their leaf the longest."

Naruto is even worse at the leaf game than I am.

After it falls off twenty times in one minute, he growls at his leaf like it's his sworn enemy, smacking it back on his forehead and going comically cross-eyed as he tries to glare at it.

Because I am too busy laughing at him, I can't concentrate, either.

"This is boring," he huffs, "Why are we doing this again?"

"Because it's not just any game," I say, smiling mysteriously, "It's a shinobi game."

He stares blankly, scowling as his leaf drops again. "Why would shinobi sit around holding stupid leaves?"

"All ninja can do it," I tell him, "How are you going to be Hokage if you can't hold the leaf?"

"I can too hold the leaf!" He yells immediately, clenching a fist. "And I'm going to be Hokage. Just you watch!"

With renewed determination, we pour all our efforts into attaching the leaves to our foreheads, which proves increasingly difficult as the breeze picks up. I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing. Inhale, exhale. A hand pokes me on the shoulder. I scowl, ignoring it, as I cling to my chakra.

Poke. Poke. Poke. My leaf flutters down.

Grudgingly, I crack open an eye.

"Hey, Karin," Naruto says, grinning bashfully. "I'm kinda hungry." As if on cue, his stomach gives a loud growl.

"Okay," I say, "But we'll play the leaf game again tomorrow."

"Why?" He blinks at me, tilting his head with a sudden sharpness in his stare. "Why is it so important?"

This is the first time I've insisted on playing a game, I realize. Usually I just let him choose whatever.

"Because..." I begin, fumbling.

Because I remember chakra control was his biggest weakness, and he will be fighting a series of life or death battles to save the world, and I have no guarantee that he will miraculously succeed every time like he's supposed to, and I don't want him to get hurt any more than necessary, because he's been a good friend to me?

"Because," I say, "I'll buy you ramen."

That, of all things, convinces him.

Throwing one arm around my shoulders in a sloppy hug, Naruto cheers. "Yeah! Ramen! My favorite cousin!"

"I'm your only cousin," I deadpan.

Well, there's also Nagato, but given he's plotting to destroy the world as we know it, I humbly think that _I_ should be the favorite cousin. Honestly.

* * *

"Karin-chan," my mother says, peering at me over the edge of her needlework, "You seem different."

I freeze. "Different... how?"

"I don't know, you tell me," she tilts her head, with an amused smile.

I blink, and keep stubbornly silent, ducking my head to avoid her gaze.

With a quiet sigh, she taps her chin thoughtfully. "You're busier. A little livelier. Sometimes you just stand there, smiling to yourself, like you remembered something funny. And you don't come home early to help me with needlework like you used to."

I feel a stab of guilt in my stomach. "I - I'm sorry. I'll help out more, I swear..."

"Karin-chan," Mother holds her hands up, palms flat, still smiling, "You're taking this the wrong way. I'm glad, Karin. I'm so glad. I know you've been through a lot, but all I want is for you to have the chance to be a child. I've never seen you so happy, and that makes me the happiest I've ever been after... when you smile, I forget my pains."

I blink back hot tears, sniffling into her warm hug. Looking down at my feet, I say, in a hushed voice, "I made a friend."

"Oh?" Her smile widens. "That's wonderful. Will you tell me about them?"

I nod, rubbing my eyes. "He's... loud," I begin hesitantly, unsure how to describe Naruto, "He's really bright, if you can get him to sit still long enough, but he's so stubborn. He has too much energy to know what to do with himself. But he... he has a heart larger than him."

Mother hums, sounding pleased. "He seems like a good kid. Can you bring him by?"

"Well, I've offered, but he always makes an excuse not to. I think he's nervous."

"Oh?" She frowns slightly. "Maybe he's a little shy?"

I burst into cackles. "No. No..." I cut myself off, wheezing. "Naruto isn't shy, at all. Trust me. When I finally manage to convince him, he'll be pounding down our door, making himself at home in no time."

"Naruto? Isn't that... a kind of fishcake?" Her eyebrows are raised to her hairline.

"His parents were ramen enthusiasts," I say, covering my smile with a hand, "Ah, did I tell you? He has Uzu blood in him. We have the same last name."

Mother freezes.

The next morning, there are two matching lunchboxes set neatly on our kitchen counter. "For Naruto," she says.

"Oh?" I tilt my head at her, a silent question.

"Were," she mumbles softly. "You said his parents _were_."

"Thank you," I say, sincerely. I pick up the boxes carefully, pausing at the doorway to look back at her. Curled into herself, small and soft, with the weight of a dozen losses on her frail shoulders, she's the strongest woman I've met.

* * *

Naruto and I keep to ourselves, usually. Our popularity is dangerously low, thanks to Ami's dislike of us and the rumors about Naruto's alleged monstrosity.

Still, he's too friendly for his own good.

"Hey, Naruto, you and Karin want to play ninja with us?"

He stares suspiciously for a moment, then grins, nodding brightly.

"Too bad, you can't!"

Naruto glares furiously, the grin melting off his face. I can see the way his fists clench at his sides. "Whatever. You're all lame anyway!"

"Wait. You can play," Ami says suddenly.

I frown darkly, crossing my arms. Ami hates us. She makes no secret of that. If she's inviting us, she means only to hurt or humiliate us.

"Our team is ready. Go ahead and gather people for your team, Naruto." Then she pauses, a sneer spreading across her face, as she looks around and calls out loudly. "So who wants to be on Naruto's team?"

No one wants to be on Naruto's team. It's social suicide. Ami knows that.

She only wants him to humiliate himself by asking and being rejected.

"We'll play," I say quickly. "But only if it's infiltrators and patrols. Everything else is lame."

"Sure," she smirks. The kids around her snicker faintly.

"Come on, Naruto," I say, tugging his hand, as I throw a glare over my shoulder, "Team is you and me."

Playing ninja, as they call it, has many variations. There's hunter nin and missing nin, which is basically an elaborate version of tag. There's courier, which is like cops and robbers, except the couriers have to take an item from point A to B while defending it from the enemy team. There's assassin, which involves being stealthy and hitting others with paper shuriken in a battle royale.

Infiltrators and patrols, which we'll be playing, is a modified version of hide and seek. The infiltrator team hides all over the playground, and the patrols are supposed to find them and tag them. Upon being found out, the infiltrator has to run to a spot of the playground dubbed the gate. If they manage to touch the gate before the patrol tags them, they are considered to have escaped.

If the patrol can't find all the infiltrators before recess ends, or if an infiltrator escapes through the gate, the infiltrators win.

"Karin," Naruto gulps, looking down uneasily. He clearly regrets having taken their bait. "I mean, I want to play, but how... how can we do this?"

"Naruto," I whisper solemnly, holding his shoulders, "For this to work, you'll have to be very, very fast."

He nods enthusiastically. "I'm the fastest in our class, believe it!" He is, too. He's tied with Sasuke.

"All right," I say, "I'll tell you everyone's hiding spots, then you go and tag them, one by one. I'll stay back and guard the gate in case anyone gets past you."

He nods, brightening. Then his brain catches up with him, and he looks doubtful. "Uh, Karin? How will you find everyone, if you're not leaving the gate?"

I smile cryptically. "You leave that to me."

As we cover our eyes and count to a hundred, I keep an ear out for the familiar tunes of my classmates' chakra, and grin.

Our victory is as swift as it's crushing, because no one can outrun Naruto, and no one can hide from me.

Sasuke almost manages to, though. He waits until I'm distracted guarding the gate from Shino, who attacks me with a cloud of bugs in an attempt to chase me off my post.

Then he bursts out of his hiding spot and makes a break for it. Naruto takes off after him, roaring. His hand fists on the collar of Sasuke's shirt. "Got you!" He yells triumphantly.

Sasuke shakes him off, glaring. "Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not! You got my clothes," Sasuke argues, crossing his arms, "That's not getting me."

"Fine," Naruto says, poking him in the face, "Now I got you. Bastard."

Sasuke looks like he's trying to spontaneously set him on fire with his gaze. It's alarming to think that in some years he might actually be able to.

"Naruto!" I shout, my hand on Shino's arm. Unluckily for the Aburame, I'm not scared of bugs. "We won. Let's celebrate."

Naruto and Sasuke turn away from each other with a loud, mutual hmph.

* * *

Our unexpected triumph in infiltrators and patrols makes us an overnight sensation, in the worst way. For a couple of days, we are the talk of the class, and the general consensus seems to be that we cheated somehow. Naruto, of course, preens under all the attention. Me, not so much.

I am absently reading a text on basic academy ninjutsu, musing to myself that I'd like to attempt henge soon, when a low voice drawls out to my left.

"So, how did you do it?"

I turn, and Nara Shikamaru is staring at me, hands in his pockets and a disgruntled expression on his face, dark eyes sharp.

"Hm?" I say, faintly, deliberately obtuse, "Is there anything you need, Nara-san?"

He shoots me a piercing look, voice flat and no nonsense. "I saw you and Naruto. Everytime he found a few people, he'd run back to you, and you'd whisper to him. Then he'd head out again and suddenly know where everyone was. He wasn't even looking. He'd just go straight to them. As if he knew."

His eyes narrow at me. I blink airily at him.

"Must have been your impression," I say, turning back to my book.

His chakra actually sounds annoyed now, the keys of a grand piano tumbling messily, a flat scale.

"How'd you do it?"

I look up at him, considering.

"I'm a secret Hyuuga," I say, deadpan. "I have the power of the Byakugan."

He narrows his eyes to slits, completely unconvinced.

"Tch," he says, turning away. "You're too troublesome."

I smile. Victory.

Victory doesn't last.

Soon enough, Sasuke saunters up to us, demanding to know how we cheated. Unlike Shikamaru, he hasn't clued on to me, but he knows we did something.

"You don't have any tracking jutsu like the Inuzuka or the Aburame," he says. "There's no way you should have found everyone so easily. So you cheated."

I contemplate feeding him the line about the secret Hyuuga again, but before I can say anything, Naruto bristles.

"You're just mad that you lost!" He yells at him, glaring.

Sasuke glares back, violently. "As if. You just got lucky."

"We-"

"We're secret ANBU agents, sent to infiltrate the academy," I say flatly, "That's why we won."

Naruto snickers. "Yeah! We left our masks at home. Sorry, Sasuke."

"That's stupid," Sasuke crosses his arms, scowling at me with distaste.

"Hey!" Naruto shoots to his feet, getting all up in his face in an instant. "Don't talk to Karin like that! Bastard!"

I blink. Naruto tells me I say stupid things whenever I annoy him with my sarcasm, but apparently _Sasuke_ isn't allowed to do the same. Not on his watch. I feel oddly touched, almost.

Almost, because they are really very loud and grating on my ears quickly.

"What is wrong with you-"

"What the hell is your problem-"

"Just because you're jealous of me-"

"I beat you on laps on Monday-"

"I beat you on shuriken jutsu every day-"

"You think you're just so cool-"

"And who do you think you are, you orange idiot-"

I sigh. Briefly, I consider attempting to separate them, but then I just slump face down on my book.

By the time Iruka-sensei intervenes, they are wrestling on the classroom floor, as a crowd of onlookers cheers Sasuke on. Mostly girls. Occasionally, I throw in a "go, Naruto" just so he doesn't feel abandoned.

"G-g-go, N-naruto-kun," echoes a voice next to me, so quietly I almost don't hear it. Hyuuga Hinata turns beet red when she catches me looking.

* * *

"Hey, Karin," Naruto slides into the seat next to me, elbowing me conspiratorially, "I have an idea for a prank."

I stare back, unimpressed. "Yes?"

"Let's put a fart pillow on Ami's seat!" He says, face lit up in glee, as if amazed by his own genius.

I blink, my lips twitching despite myself. "You spend too much time on those pranks, you know."

"It's fun!"

He looks at me expectantly.

"Sorry," I say, "It just doesn't hold the same charm for me."

"But..." He stares at me in dismay.

"The seat thing is funny," I grin. "It's funny because it's Ami. But it's just not worth the effort, if you ask me. I don't want to waste my time on her."

"But pranks are fun to set up! And - and the look on people's faces! And it makes them acknowledge you," he says. "They can't pretend you're not there."

"But doesn't pranking make things worse?"

"Yes, but that's not the point - even if they're angry, they have to acknowledge you!"

"I don't want Ami to acknowledge me," I say. "I only want my mother and you to acknowledge me."

Naruto blinks wildly. "...really?"

I nod.

"What about everyone else? Don't you care about everyone else?"

"Not really," I say, surprising myself with the fact that it's true.

"Well, I'm going to be Hokage," he proclaims grandly, pointing to his chest. "I'm going to make everyone in the whole village acknowledge me!"

I smile. "Being acknowledged by everyone in the village sounds tiring," I yawn, leaning back. "I'd probably look for a spot to hide."

He shoots me a funny look. "You're weird, Karin."

"Every family has a weird relative," I tell him sagely.

"Yeah," Naruto grins, bright and sudden. "Family. We're the best family ever."

There's a surprising amount of feeling in his voice. I can hear a flute ringing out brightly.

I don't think he'd realized how much I care. And I didn't realize how much he needed to hear it, until I said it. That he is someone I want to be acknowledged by.

* * *

One day, I pay a routine visit to the library and nearly faint in shock. I stare. I pinch myself. I stare again.

"N... naruto? Is that you?" I blink wildly at him, whispering. "With a book? Without me forcing you?" I narrow my eyes. "Is Iruka-sensei around? Are you late on homework?"

He flushes bright red, scratching the back of his neck. "N-no... I just..." He trails off, staring at the table nervously.

I peer over curiously at the cover of his book, and freeze. _A History Among the Eddies_ , it reads. _Tales of the Village of Whirling Waters._ The Uzushiogakure sigil is emblazoned on the cover, bright red against the ocean blue background.

"Ah," I say, clearing my throat. "That's a nice book. It's by Uzumaki Eijiro. He's actually my mother's uncle on her father's side. Was. He passed in the invasion."

At the mention of my mother, Naruto twitches, like he always does. He sets the book down. "It's a really cool book," he grins, opening a page. "There's even a picture of the village, before."

It's an old, black and white picture of rows of grey houses and dark churning waters snaking through them. There's a few villagers in the background, their faces faded in the distance.

"I was hoping," he says, voice small, "I was hoping I could learn more. I know you've told me all the stories, but just... about my parents. What kind of people they were."

"This is just a book about the culture. Our family trees were in the clan records, but they got destroyed," I say, sighing. The poor boy. But it's true, there's no way to identify Uzumaki Kushina as his mother, without digging into Konoha records.

"Jiji won't tell me," he whispers glumly. "He just says they died on the Kyuubi Attack and that's it."

I pat him on the shoulder comfortingly. "You know, my mom is filing the paperwork to get us officially recognized as a Clan when I graduate. Since a ninja clan needs to have at least one active ninja."

He blinks.

"Which means," I explain, "That when we get officially recognized as the Uzumaki Clan, she'll get access to the records, which have the names of all the other Uzumakis who ever lived in Konoha. So your parents' names might be there."

It is a long shot, considering Kushina's name might have been blacked out for confidentiality's sake. But I just... I just want to give him some hope.

Instead of brightening, like I expect, Naruto looks up hopefully. "You think your mom will let me see them?" He mumbles.

"Of course."

There it is. That nervous twitch again.

"Naruto," I say, "Why are you so scared to meet my mother?"

He looks away.

"She's nice," I try.

Silence.

"She makes great ramen."

He looks up eagerly for a moment, then back down again, visibly fighting with himself.

"Just tell me what the problem is," I whisper, nudging his shoulder. "Don't you trust me?"

"Yeah..." He gulps, then he says quickly, all in a rush of breath. "What if she doesn't like me?"

I blink. "Of course she likes you. She's been making lunchboxes for you for months, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," He looks down again. "But she doesn't... she doesn't know I'm me."

I stare.

"I had friends before," he says, softly. "But then they invited me over, and their parents told them not to be friends with me anymore. I don't - I don't wanna stop being friends with you, Karin."

"Naruto, I'm not going to stop being friends with you. And my mother isn't like that. She isn't," I insist, firmly, when he opens his mouth to argue.

Then I drag him over to my house before he can change his mind.

* * *

"Mother," I call out, "I'm home."

She pokes her head out from the kitchen door. Naruto twitches.

I push him forward. "This is my friend. Uzumaki Naruto."

"Ah," she smiles. "Nice to finally meet you, Naruto-kun. Can I get you children anything to eat?"

He stares, mumbling something to his feet.

"Ramen," I supply. "He likes ramen."

We sit awkwardly, not really talking.

Naruto swallows down the first mouthful of miso ramen and loses all his inhibitions, suddenly.

"Hey, hey, Mayumi-san!" He beams, staring at her. "Your ramen is so good! Almost as good as Ichiraku's! Woah. Your house is so pretty too. And your plants! How do you get your plants all glossy like that? I've been trying it with mine, but I think I ended up watering too much, I don't know, and..."

Mother smiles, blinking. She raises an eyebrow at me.

"Told you he wasn't shy," I say wryly.

* * *

For a while, we are perfectly happy. Naruto and I have become thick as thieves, and he now comes over for dinner almost every day. My mother adores him, and he, as if making up for all his initial reluctance, adores her right back.

Of course, our easy, carefree existence is brutally interrupted by an incredibly annoying, increasingly terrifying day.

It starts like this:

"Now, class, you will be doing a written assignment and a presentation on the types of elemental jutsu," Iruka-sensei announces. "You'll be working in pairs. The assignment is due in a week."

Naruto and I exchange a meaningful look. We always team up.

"...In order to foster teamwork," Iruka-sensei goes on, "The pairs will be randomly drawn."

"But, Iruka-sensei -" A girl squeaks out from the front row.

"No buts," interjects Mizuki-sensei, "When you're going on missions, you won't get to choose what teammates you have. You'll be assigned by the Hokage or by a team leader. And you'll be expected to work with them, regardless of anything."

The class grumbles, subdued.

"I hope we don't get stuck with Ami," Naruto whispers loudly to me.

I nod fiercely, shuddering. Anyone else wouldn't be so bad, I think. The rest of the class hates Naruto and I pretty much equally.

It is worse. It is much worse than anything I could have imagined.

"Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto."

I wince in sympathy, patting his shoulder.

"Nara Shikamaru and Uzumaki Karin."

I bury my face in my hands, mourning the death of my perfect ninjutsu theory grade average.

As expected, Naruto and Sasuke go over to Iruka-sensei at almost the same time to argue all the reasons why they should be re-assigned.

"Pairs are final," the chunin says, with a forbidding glare.

* * *

"You won't believe what he said," Naruto runs up to me, seething.

"Who," I say weakly, though I can guess.

"Sasuke! The bastard!" He yells in a bout of pure indignation, looking about to tear his hair out. "He said to just shut up and let him do the whole assignment. He turned to me and said, you'll only bring me down anyway! In that stupid smug voice. He's such a bastard. He thinks he's so much better than me-"

Dimly, it occurs to me that I have the exact opposite problem. It will be completely impossible to get Shikamaru to do his share of the work. Especially after the line I fed him about the secret Hyuuga thing. Which wouldn't be a problem, because I can do the written assignment all by myself, except there's also the presentation. There's no way I can hide the fact he didn't do anything if he doesn't even talk during it.

Which, of course, would threaten his grades, but Shikamaru doesn't care about his grades at all. And I do. Annoyingly enough.

"Naruto," I look at him glumly, "We really have no luck."

He nods fiercely in agreement. "Man! What an even worse turn to an already bad day!"

I peer at him curiously. "What happened?"

Naruto scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. "My landlord turned off the heat in my apartment. Again." He scowls.

"What? It's winter."

"I know," he says crossily. "He always tells me it's a problem with the building, but I check and everyone else's apartments are always fine. And he _never_ fixes it when I ask him to. It takes forever."

"He sounds awful," I frown, pushing my glasses up. "How long did it take last time?"

"A week or so."

I cringe. Then I nudge him, an idea occurring to me. "Bring some clothes. And your plants. You can stay with us until the heat is fixed."

"Oh no - there's no need -"

"You already eat dinner with us every day. We'll get you a futon. It'll be fine."

* * *

That night, I wake drenched in a cold sweat.

I am roused by a sudden, awful noise, like nails on a chalkboard. Like a terrified woman screeching in the highest possible voice. It is an ugly, squeaking sound, sharp and too high.

It is loud, very loud, and it's coming from our kitchen.

Naruto, I think, stumbling out of bed. But Naruto's signature doesn't sound like that. I can hear his trumpet, soft and restful in his sleep, and my mother's chiming bells.

The grating, high noise doesn't stop.

I creep out into the kitchen, looking around in the dark. I see only shadows.

"Is there someone there," I ask, shakily. I am met with only silence.

For a second, I consider calling out more firmly. Asking who it is. Telling them I know they are there. Demanding that they show themselves.

But their signature is strong, and I am defenseless. I... I don't know what to do. If they wanted to kill us all, they could have. The thought fills me with more horror than I want to admit.

Perhaps they are simply hiding. Perhaps if I reveal I have found them, that I can sense them standing in the left corner near the stove, they will know their cover is blown. Perhaps it might provoke them into attacking.

I fill myself a glass of water, and I go back to bed. I don't sleep at all.

In the morning, there's a masked man at our door, telling us we have an audience with the Hokage.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, so this one is just to develop the Karin/Naruto friendship a bit. Hope it doesn't feel too sudden. Keep in mind it spans several months, though I don't know if I made it clear? Sorry.

PS: I'm answering the reviews by PM this time, as soon as I have the time! Thanks everyone who read, reviewed, followed or faved. You're the best!


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